When Max met Rudy
by 123PixieAOD
Summary: Did you honestly believe Rudy would stay dead?
1. Chapter 1

You probably assume this story starts with Max, right? I can see it in your face, the way your eyes scan the page. Don't worry, you won't have to wait long. I know how impatient you humans are. But first, please allow me to paint you a picture.

 **~*~THE PORTRAIT IN FRONT OF YOU~*~**

 **A Nazi sits on the doorstep of society.**

 **His once ripe features have rotted away.**

 **A smudged blanket tries to insulate him from the freezing glances,**

 **from** _ **your**_ **frosty looks.**

 **Blue eyes bump into yours, pleading,** _ **begging**_ **for help.**

 **Can you smell the shame yet?**

 **A hand emerges up, grasping a plastic cup.**

 **In it, you can just make out the meagre offerings of his future.**

 **Would you?**

 **Would you help this pitiful creature, this Nazi?**

 **Max Vandenburg did.**

And now, we'll catch up with Max. You are very welcome to join us. After all, it's a free country, a free world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you _so_ much to my four followers! Fantastic :) **

**Also Thanks _so so so so so so_ much to my two reviews. Miki Mae- I wouldn't get your hopes up! You might be in for a surprise! Thanks for reviewing! :) Guest - Your review meant so much to me. I'm so sorry I haven't updated sooner. This chapter was really messy to write and I didn't want to put anything up that I wasn't 100% happy with. I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations! Thanks for reviewing :)**

 **Okay it's ready.**

 **~*~A Small Significant fact to start us off~*~**

 **Max Vandenburg was learning to love life.**

Everybody could see it. The man was beginning to straighten up, his eyes were no longer blood-shot. Of course he still had his nightmares, and he trembled slightly when writing, but Max Vandenburg had begun to smile again. In short, he was remembering what it is to be human.

Sometimes I wonder if it's a blessing or a curse; to remember.

The year was 1950 and life was relaxing, stretching out with him. Max had been gifted a job in a printing office, shovelling blank pieces of paper onto a rack, and tattooed pages down again. He enjoyed it, hearing the stamping words appear, watching knowledge grow.

Our story doesn't begin in the printers however; but rather outside, where it is huddled on the steps, blowing on its hands. It's waiting for us, glancing back enviously at the warm windows behind.

Of course Max had no idea a story was sitting outside in the snow. He was busy heaving paper in the cosy warmth of _Adler's and Son's Printers._

"Can you believe the weather outside Max!?" Kurt Adler exclaimed as he stared intently at the whirling snow. His voiced bounded over to Max in a way his legs could never manage.

Max paused to blow hair out of his eyes, the machine beating senseless next to him. He glanced out the window, before his gaze slid to Kurt. His cripple leg could just be seen, reminding Max of a twisted tree stump.

"New Order!" The door upstairs banged open, a warning too late.

 _The Father_ leaned over the railing, surveying his kingdom. A cigarette hung lifelessly on his lips, begging for a quick death.

"Some Dictionary. 200 copies. Keep it neat Max." He eyed Max, who's arms were cradling a tower of pages, nodded, before his eyes flicked over Kurt, who was cradling a cup of tea. Even the pages quivered a little bit under his gaze.

As _The Father_ retreated; Max wondered how the man had gained such a nick-name. It had grown unto him; and he wore it like a cloak. Perhaps the layers of wrinkles hid a religious rapture. Or maybe it was for the company's name _Adler's and Son's_. Maybe one of his sons had begun referring to him with a _the_ prefix, and it had stuck. Perhaps nobody had the heart to change it now. You see, I had collected three out of the four Adler boys during the war, leaving behind only the weakest one. Survival of the Fitness? I thought you knew, war doesn't bow down to any rule. If only it did.

Max shrugged his thoughts away, and looked down to the pages he held. The side facing him was blank; but when he flipped it, _Duden Completed Dictionary_ blinked innocently back. Sounds familiar? Fate was only just warming up.

The day swept by with a thumping printer mingled with the smell of tea. Yes, it was tedious and dull, but it was just what Max craved; his soul sipping it up.

After work, Max and Kurt always got a beer in the local tavern ' _Schmitt's_ ". Max wasn't quite sure what he would call Kurt. More than a colleague, but perhaps not yet a friend. But if he thought like that, Max wouldn't have anybody left to talk to.

It was a crisp and cool wind that welcomed them as they stepped out of beating body of the printers.

Max was too busy hugging his coat to see her. In fact, he virtually walked on her.

The girl, _the woman_ , sat huddled on the steps, her breath spreading like stream before the wind stole it. Max stared for a few moments, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

" _Liesel_?" He could just make out golden ringlets peaking from her scarf. Her lips trembled, her frozen chocolate eyes were focussed on something hidden in the air.

"Liesel! What on earth-?" Max swept down next to her, grabbing her huddled hands. They were nearly blue, reaching past the stage of shivering.

When she didn't respond, he shook her, calling her name again.

 _"It's my fault. I'm the saumensh. I pushed him down, away from me-."_ The sour words seeped from her numb lips.

Max looked up at Kurt, for once silent. "Kurt. I don't think I make tonight."

Kurt glanced down at Liesel, sombrely wished Max luck, and limped away into the swirling night. Perhaps he should have helped; but Kurt was not that strong. He wasn't a fighter. He couldn't fix broken people. Not like Max could.

Max looked at the trembling Liesel, before gently helping her up. "Come on Liesel. Time to go home." He whispered to the girl as they left the harsh printing steps.

 **~*~ A Small Sad fact to finish us off ~*~**

 **Yes, Max loved life. But not quite as much as he loved a book thief.**


	3. Chapter 3

She wrapped her hands around the cup, feeding off the warmth. Her eyes were staring into the fire, her lips slowly melting.

Max leaned against the door frame, just watching her.

"How come you're here Liesel?" The words reached her like a breeze, and she shivered. Max wished he could rephrase it, the sentence sounded so accusative out in the open.

When she didn't answer, Max glanced around the bare room. His messy bed lay in the corner, under a curtain-less window. The rusty cooker was by his pillow, next to a dinky fridge. A naked writing-desk, a fire place, two chairs (one currently occupied by the Book Thief), and the locked door took up the remaining space. Another time he would have felt bashful; worried about what Liesel thought about his quant, rather pitiful, home. Not now. He doubted she would even notice if the Führer was sat next to her, smoking a cigar.

"I didn't mean to Max. Honestly." She whispered into her cup, just loud enough for him to make out. "I had it all planned. I would walk in, and you would be amazed with me. Little Liesel all grown up." She laughed bitterly, ending with a slight sob.

Max stayed silent, his eyes examining ruined Liesel. It was true, she _had_ grown up. When he had seen her last, over three years ago, she still had had a child's appearance, even if her eyes were so much older. But the Liesel staring into the fire was no child. Her age was finally catching up to her eyes.

Max walked to the spare chair, pushed Hitler off, and sat down, his gaze never leaving Liesel.

"Why are you-" Still too accusative, Max changed track. "What brings you to Stuttgart? Last I heard you were planning to head to Munich." _Last I heard you thought we should never meet again._

"I went to Munich. I lasted two months in that god-forsaken city. It was enough time to find out the Nazi's had murdered her though." Her voice was hardened, but had melted again when she added. "My mother."

 **~*~ Not quite true ~*~**

 **It hadn't been a German who killed Mrs Meminger.**

 **It was a Jew.**

 **I collect her in the midst of winter, a reflection to her son.**

 **The sky was a drowning lake, broken only by the icy moon.**

Max was unsure what to say, and his condolence sounded weak even to his ears.

Liesel shrugged, as if they were discussing the snow outside. "It was good to finally have closure." Her voice was hollow.

Once again silence reigned over the barren room. Max allowed his muscles to relax from the fire's heat. Outside the elements threw themselves against the window, a furious wind had joined the snow. Max wondered had Kurt visited ' _Schmitt's'_ as they had planned. He was just thinking about the inviting smell of whiskey mixed with burning firewood while Liesel spoke again.

"It's the words Max. They're killing me." The warmth was gone, replaced with another shiver.

"You once told me that words are life, and you were right. They can never die, never. Not even when everyone else has." Liesel looked across at Max, before gazing back into the fire.

"I saw what you were printing. I looked through the window and it sat there, like a- like a ..." She struggled for the word. "Like a sleeping curse."

"Duden Completed Dictionary. It brought me back, and the words drowned me." Liesel buried her head against her arms, and Max released her tea had gone cold. It was such a small thing, but it screamed out to him. Perhaps, in that moment, Max needed to feel like he could fix something, no matter how small.

"Here; I'll get you some more." The cup slipped easily away from her grasp and Max walked to the cooker. As he waited for the water to start shrieking, his gaze returned to the window. A swirl of snow pounded against the glass, blasted by a fierce wind. Even the stars were taking cover.

He moved closer and saw his reflection looking into the warm room. Swampy eyes shone like murky moons. He wondered how many people had looked into these eyes, and how many of them were dead. He imagined the ghosts in the snow outside. Was that an outstretched arm there? A screaming mouth here?

"Max?"

He wondered was he looking at the dead, or was it the dead looking back to the living. Who was the trespasser? What was -

Max!" Liesel's voice brought him back to reality. Max shook himself before turning back to Liesel. She looked so small, so withered. Both like a daughter and a granny.

"I came here to ask- no to tell you something." Her gaze fell to her hands again.

"It's a- a decision I've made." Max noticed she was stalling, and took the time to walk away from the window, to sit next to her.

"What is it Liesel?" He took her shaking hands in his. Her fingers were like thin sheets of paper, the type the printers used for bibles.

"I'm..." She took a quivering breathe, her lips slowly returning to their cherry red. "I'm moving."

Like a dam released, the words flowed. "I'm-moving-to-Australia-and-I-was-wondering-if-you-would-like-to-come-with-me?"

Her eyes flicked up to his, wide. "I didn't-"

Max dropped her hands gently, and leaned back into the chair. The wooden poles digged into his back as he tilted his head to the ceiling, releasing a breathe he didn't know he was holding.

"When?"

"Soon. Maybe next Summer?"

"Why?"

This time she paused. "Because I'm a coward." She whispered.

"No." Max turned to her. "I meant why me?"

Liesel smiled shyly. "You're my friend Max... And-and because I'm scared." She added softly.

Max thought about his job, how hard it had been building his life up from the ashes of his people. He thought of the language he loved, and he thought about the country he called home.

But his eyes stayed with Liesel's. Chocolates and a swamp.

 **~*~ What Max Vandenberg said ~*~**

 **"I'll think about it Liesel."**

 **...**

 **~*~ What Max Vandenberg actually said ~*~**

 **"Yes."**

 _Did you guys like it? I'm so sorry for the abominable wait. If it helps, this one was a mammoth. Also, I pinky-promise Rudy will make an appearance in the next chapter!_

 _Hope y'all had a spooktacular Hallowe'en. (I'm trying to bring that word back in fashion... Rather unsuccessfully I'll add)._

 _xxx Pixie_

 **P.S Shoutout to my wonderful _three_ reviewers! You guys rock. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Max knew what to expect. It was written on his breath, and wept through his closed eyes.

It was resignation. It was punishment. It was gratitude.

 **~*~ The Book Thief Productions Proudly Present ~*~**

 **A Noteworthy Extract from the Chronicles of Max Vandenberg's Nightmares.**

He was walking. That was how they always started. Up down up down. Feel the pain.

This was different though. This one was sunny.

Max raised his head, and felt the warmth stroke his cheek. It was never sunny, it shouldn't be sunny.

The next thing he noticed was a weight on his arm. Or as much a weight as you can feel in a dream.

Max glanced down, only to see Liesel walking beside him, arm-in-arm.

It was another Liesel, though, to the one he had seen that night. This was had smiling eyes and a contented figure. When she met Max's stare, she blushed and giggled. He blonde curls bounced on her shoulders like excited puppies.

"Liesel... What's going on?" He asked as they walked,

She looked up to him with warm cacao eyes and Max only then noticed the blue ribbon tied in her hair.

"Max." Her voice sounded like bells, so unlike the broken chime from last night. "You're taking me home. To your home." She laughed again.

It was only then that their surroundings came into focus; or perhaps Max simply hadn't noticed them before.

It was... home. Just like she had said. They were walking up Bauer Street, past Frau Bayern's Konditorei. Even as he watched, she appeared in the window display, setting down a two tier cake. When she saw them, she raised a hand in greeting, a friendly if not weary smile growing on her lips. She never did completely trust Max again after The Stuggart vs. Paris fistfight.

 **~*~ The Stuggart versus Paris Fistfight~*~**

 **In the right, representing Stuggart, I have Max Vandenburg, a seven pound plucky twelve year old.**

 **To my left stands Kurt Fischer, a good ten pound thirteen year old supporting Paris.**

 **Max, infamous for his quick jabs, fighting to the death against the so called "barrel".**

 **We have only two little boys' egos and two city football teams to thank for this performance.**

 **Who will survive...**

 **Unfortunately, both.**

 **The fight came to a disappointing end. Frau Fischer caught her son in a headlock, Max's sharp elbow bumping against his cheeks. Both boys were given detention, plus a few whacks of the cane. Despite Max's assurances that he wasn't against Paris in anyway, he was just defending his home city, all the French in Stuggart seemed to have a vendetta against him. He had no idea how they found out, or how they knew him, but even a decade later, he was still getting glares from those defending France's honour. Frau Bayern had allowed him to buy from her, but only started making eye-contact five years after the incident.**

As they turned onto Wilhelm Strauss, Max became aware that he was wearing a suit. Perfectly fitted and smooth to touch, he had never been able to afford such a garment before, or after the war.

Of course Max knew this was all a dream. If nothing else alerted him to it, their surroundings would've. This whole section of Stuggart had been bombed to oblivion, and rebuilt with apartments and factories. Nearly everyone was dead.

Everyone but himself.

Herr Schmitt passed and nodded to them. He had taught Max the alphabet, and always had had a kind word about him to Max's mother.

Everything around them had a slight glow, a kind of magical feeling. Another thing Max noted was how large everything seemed. Bins hidden in the alleyways stood nearly as tall as Max, and the adults that walked by were giants. Max supposed this was how the world must have felt to a child, how it would be recorded in a child's mind.

"This is wonderful." Liesel interrupted Max's contemplations. She squeezed his arm, and smiled. "Nearly there!"

 _Nearly where?_

But he knew where; of course he did. It was etched into his heart like a pattern, this journey. He knew this walk better than he felt he knew himself.

And she was right. They were nearly there.

Max closed his eyes, and focussed on his breathing. In and out. Up and down.

He didn't need them to halt to know they had arrived.

"Max. Come on Max." Her voice swam in the desert of his mind, and his eyes opened without his consent, just to look at her.

Liesel really was beautiful. For the first time in his life, Max found no words to describe her, to describe the pull in his chest.

Only that she was truly beautiful.

He raised a hand and stroked her cheek. She seemed surprised but then leaned against his hand, a small smile pulling at her lips.

"Liesel-"

The door opened.

Max dropped his hand and faced them. Faced them all.

 **~*~ Who were they?~*~**

 **His mother stood at the front, holding open the door,**

 **Behind her were his six cousins.**

 **Sarah, Sam, Charlotte, Gretel, Tobi, and finally Alex.**

 **They were all there, just as he had left them ten years ago**

He was frozen, rooted by icy emotions and crushed memories. His mother's weary brown hair was swept into a bun. She was wearing the family apron, a withered brown smock. Flour was splattered down the front, just like Max always remembered it being.

It was only when she reached out, when her thin hand brushed and rested on his shoulder that he regained movement.

He rushed forward and hugged her, holding on as tightly as possible, as if trying to fool himself that this was real.

That they were all truly there.

Max squeezed shut his eyes, and pretended he could feel the apron scratch against his cheek; that he could smell his mother's spicy aroma.

"Muti... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. For-" He muttered into her shoulder, trying to sooth the ragged hate, the jagged guilt.

"Not a word to your cousins, eh? And they're all waiting, specially for you." His mother pulled away, rubbing her fingers across his cheeks, and smiled. Perhaps in that smile, in those two dark eyes, Max found the forgiveness he so desperately needed.

Maybe, maybe not.

Max looked behind her, to his six cousins. They all looked the same. And they were all grinning, just like he remembered them to be.

He moved from one to another, like a strange game of stepping stones. Each one received a kiss and a quick hug.

Max hadn't found out what had happened to them. They had all been swallowed up by the Nazi's home-grown monster. He liked to think at least one of them had escaped, at least one was searching for him too.

 **~*~ What really happened to these smiling relations?~*~**

 **I'm not going to tell you.**

 **If I did, you would have nothing to ponder about. Nothing to amuse yourself with.**

 **And I am nothing, but a good entertainer.**

"And is this the special lady then!?" His mother opened her arms wide in welcome to Liesel.

Max introduced this smiling version of Liesel to his relatives. It was surreal. His two world suddenly colliding.

There was one face missing though. Max turned and asked Sarah, one of his more genial cousins, where her father was. Surely if there were all there...

Her face fell just like Max's hopes. "Papa... He's dead Max. Remember?"She looked at him with glassy, but very much alive eyes, and Max gave her a sideward's hug. Apparently even dreams have their limits.

Dreams are strange. Time behaves like a naughty child who can get away with things. And all other concepts just go along with it. One moment Max was hugging Sarah, and suddenly he was sitting in his Uncle's armchair, playing a card-game. He knew his family had spoken to him, chatted to Liesel; they had even eaten cherry cake together. Yet somehow he felt like he had not been there. Time danced across his vision and slipped through his finger, leaving only a few grains.

"I suppose it's time we leave." Liesel had managed to catch time out, corned it.

Max started, spilling a mid-shuffled card deck on to the floor. "Pardon?"

"Look outside Max. It's already dark." Oh yes, Liesel had most certainly grabbed the tail, and refused to let go.

"A wise young girl you have there Max." His mother joined in, looking out of the now murky window. Something deadly lurked in the shadows outside, flitting across the window pane. And Max knew what it was.

 **~*~ What Max thought he saw ~*~**

 **Nazism.**

 **I beg to differ though.**

 **~*~ What I believe Max saw~*~**

 **Reality.**

His cousins played on the floor, flicking the playing cards at one another. His mother clapped her hands, drawing their attentive like months to a flame.

"Max is leaving now." She smiled sadly at him when she said it, and he understood she didn't want this. She wasn't pushing him out.

It was just time.

His cousins stood up, and slowly drew closer to him. It was as if they too knew that this wasn't just an ordinary visit.

Max burrowed his face into each one. Alex was last. His brown hair was magnificently messy, and he held a beautiful toothless smile.

Max pulled the boy against him, and blocked his senses.

There was just him and Alex. Wonderful, tragic Alex.

Max allowed his ears to flicker open, and listened.

It was only when he heard nothing that Max pulled back.

 **~*~ A Small Note from our Narrator~*~**

 **To me, dreams are deplorable.**

 **Max did not find what he was searching for.**

 **But in that moment Alex was very much alive.**

 **He was vibrant, and then he was gone.**

 **He was simply a shadow on a cloud.**

 **Dreams are perhaps the only place where I am exactly like you**

 **Nothing**

 **To me, dreams are exhilarating.**

They left them in the hallway, gently closing the sighing door.

Liesel and Max, standing in a childhood.

The walls were bleeding, the floor rotting, but those dying materials still clutched stubborn memories.

Max leaned forward and ran his hand across the dark wall, reliving the moments he and his cousins had played hid-and-seek, counting against that very spot.

It was all too much. Images threatened to drown him. He pressed the heel of his hands against his closed eyes; anything to stop the rising moments.

"Max."

"I can't do it. I can't leave them. I can't stay here. I don't-" Max mumbled with a mind of a tornado, ripping him up.

"Max." Liesel's voice was a rainbow through hell. Her soft hands wrapped his, and drew them to her.

"Max looked at me." She held his hands together, her touch so cooling.

His eyes opened and met hers. She smiled softly, a tear forming along her cheek.

It was like an ice-cube being thrown onto a fire, only the opposite. The tornado shrank, coolness reigned and the room smoothly melted away to white.

The peace Max longed for was suddenly there. Right in front of him.

"Liesel..."

Max released his left hand, and gently tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

She smiled back, and leaned towards him, her eye-lashes spread.

Without thinking, Max leaned forward too, allowing his head to bend down to meet hers.

They were so close he could almost hear her smile.

"Hey Saukerl!"

Max jumped back, as if having been slapped by the high-pitched voice.

In front of him towered a mound of broken toys and aging bikes, peaked by a figure.

Max turned back to Liesel, but it was too late.

She was gone.

The figure was a thin, gangly boy, his arms propped on his hips. His lips sported a smug curl, his eyes triumphant.

Around his neck glinted three gold medals.

"Hey Saukerl!" The boy shouted again as he stared down at Max.

"What makes you think you deserve that kiss huh?"

His hair was the exact shade of lemons, Max noticed.

Of course it was Max. Of course it was. What other colour was there truly?

 _Thanks for all your patience and kindness. I really hope that Mr Zusak knows how he must have some of the loveliest people in love with his book. The reviews and the favourites are what makes me write. Without those, you would not be reading this. Thank you._

 _Happy New Year!_

 _Pixie_

 _xxx_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hello! Haha like over a year overdue, here it is. I know I always say this, but next time will be quickler, I promise!_

 _Thanks for sticking with it xxx_

 _..._

 _Tr_ _ä_ _umender Raum._

The words were ornate, golden; and seemed to have been dripped onto the sign.

The windows displayed cakes, standing proudly and pleasantly; behind them a scene of business.

 **~*~ A REQUEST~*~**

 **Please don't get distracted.**

 **Don't listen to the chuckle of a flirting waitress,**

 **Or a families' full stomach laugh,**

 **Or even to the nervous giggle of a first date,**

 **But direct yourself to the corner,**

 **Where a girl is trying to be as quiet as possible.**

She sits by herself, her hands folded on a pleated skirt. Everything about her is quiet; her breathe, her movement , her thoughts.

It seemed the pounding heart in her ears was the only testament that she was really still there.

The Book thief tentatively nibbled at her biscuit, glancing at the clock hung behind the cashier.

Max was late.

In his defence, he really couldn't help it.

 **~*~AN OBSERVATION FROM YOUR NARATOR ~*~**

 **My acquaintance, naturally and rather unfortunate, will always effect people.**

 **The more instances I pass an individual, the more they change.**

 **And I knew Max very well by then.**

 **Some drank themselves to slumber,**

 **Others chose to creative a cocoon of solitude.**

 **Max however, chose his vice to be punctuality.**

 **Or rather, lack of it.**

He bustled in, an coat draped on one arm, an apology on the other.

A smile sprinkled on top.

...

"So... Liesel." Dark eyes watched her over the steam of tea. "Why Australia?"

Liesel's smile dripped onto her lap. A gloved hand reached into her bag, propped against her chair.

"It's silly really. _Total bl_ _ö_ _d._ Honestly, I don't know what's in my head most of the time..." Her voice crept to mutterings as she rummaged through the rucksack, her fingers scraping pointless mementoes of her life.

Max took the chance to look around the cafe. It was really quite a sweet place, now that it had quieted down somewhat. There were pastries in the windows, and little cakes around the till. His mind slithered back to where it always eventually went. _Did the Nazis come here? Had tea and scones and sit right where we're sitting? Did they discuss -_

Bang!

Max started, refocused.

Books.

Or more precisely, two books, lying quite contently between Lisle and him. He could almost hear them purring

Max glanced at them, then at Liesel.

"Books". The word was flattened, as if written on the pages in front of him. "You are moving to another continent... because of two books?"

Liesel smiled at him, "Of course. What else?"

Indeed, what else, really Max?

Max reached over and picked up the first book. It had a canary yellow cover and was a soft back; thinner than the other one. Flicking through, it was peppered with little cartoons decorated with hand written notes in the margins. He glanced at the cover again.

"The Antipodes for Children." He read, and looked up at Liesel, questioning.

"I found it. Someone had left it on a bench in _Grunessgarten_. It was like it was..." She blushed then, and looked at the book. "It felt like it was waiting for me."

Max placed the book down gently and picked up the other one. This one was much heavier, a hardback, with lumps of the cover missing. He opened the first page, scanning the page. _"Oscar and the Last Ostrich."_

It was clear that this one was for adult; the font was smaller and not punctuated with diagrams.

"That's fiction. It's a story about a boy who... well who wants to find an ostrich." Liesel giggled slightly, and Max smiled at her, before placing the book down onto of the paperback.

"There's a quote in it. Here I'll find it." Liesel picked it up and started leafing through it.

Max regarded the two books which had somehow managed to twist Liesel's life into another direction. _Hell, another continent._

It was clear that they had been well used and well loved. Both were tinged with tiny nicks cello-taped; many of the pages had been thumbed and then smoothed out.

"Aha!" The Book Thief announced.

 **~*~BOOK THEIF PRODUCTION PROULDY PRESENTS THE MOST IMPORTANT QUOTE ~*~**

 **The horizon was a spill of watercolours; flooded with reds, and oranges, and pinks.**

 **And it was in this spectrum Oscar found the chasm of consciousness he longed for.**

She looked up at Max then, a shimmer of life behind her irises.

"I need this."

Followed by the unspoken question, _Don't you?_


End file.
